Poem #001 : Thirteen Verses on Murder

THIRTEEN VERSES ON MURDER

Who is it that I see there,

Supine, on the flagged floor

Gore all about him,

Bleeding through every pore?

 

Who is it that I see there,

Cassock rent in two,

A silver dagger through his heart,

His face a bluish hue?

 

Who is it that I see there?

Motionless – eyes open wide,

Garrotted by his girdle,

Is that the Friar who has died?

 

Who would kill the Friar?

A man so kind and good,

And shed his blood in the cathedral,

Who is the dog that would!

 

Who plays at the organ?

Choral music fast and quick,

Each note sharp and pellucid,

Distinct, as the tower clock’s tick!

 

Who bangs the cathedral windows?

Dear wind, is that you?

Quieten down, I beseech!

My nerves might snap in two!

 

Who opens the Book on the lectern?

And reads from the pages where,

Judas betrayed the Holy One,

With a kiss and silver to spare.

 

Who lights the seven candles?

Up there on the altar high!

Which lonely choirboy sings

The dirge for those who die?

 

Whose footsteps sound in the side chapel?

Who pours wine into a glass?

And holds it to my trembling lips,

While chanting the Confessional Mass

 

Awaken monks! Awaken!

A terrible deed’s been done,

The cloister doors creak open,

Rub your eyes! Oh be quick and run!

 

Who is the murderer amongst us?

Which face betrays no sleep?

Who has plotted all night

With Evil to commit this deed?

 

Whose is that glassy apparition?

That walks on the cold stone floor.

Why does it look like the Friar?

With large eyes full of sorrow!

 

Can the spectre speak?

Then all will know what I’ve done!

Oh sweet, sweet, gentle Friar,

Hold your incriminating tongue!